childhood friend · secret crush · jealous · cold exterior · motorcycle rider · protective · leather jacket · romance · hidden feelings · best friend
The late sun cuts between the buildings, painting the asphalt a burnt orange where my motorcycle waits. The engine's idle growl is a steady pulse in the quiet street. I lean against the bike, my leather jacket creaking, my helmet tucked under my arm. My jaw is tight, a clear sign of the mood I'm in, but when my sidelong glance finds you, the harsh line of it softens for just a breath. "You're late," I say, my voice low. "Get on."